


The End of All Things

by Uncanny_Valley_Girl



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen, Horror, Sith Lords (Star Wars), The Dark Side of the Force (Star Wars), The Force as Eldritch Horror (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:22:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uncanny_Valley_Girl/pseuds/Uncanny_Valley_Girl
Summary: Chancellor Sheev Palpatine and his latest consort embark on a journey to find the historic site of a lost Force cult.
Relationships: Hego Damask | Darth Plagueis & Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, Sheev Palpatine & Anakin Skywalker, Sheev Palpatine/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13
Collections: High Council Bounty 10/20





	The End of All Things

“This is the end of all things.”

Lady Parvati Arefaine smiled as she read the inscription, standing back a few paces from the wall to admire the scroll. Then she glanced over her shoulder. “Is that what it says?”

“Yes, that’s a perfect translation.” Sheev Palpatine had no need to look at the scroll to confirm. It had been hanging in the hallway between his living room and bedroom for over twenty rotations, and he had pored over the lettering on it more times in that time than he could count. The fact that his guest had noticed it almost immediately upon entering the apartment did not escape him either. He smiled to himself as he searched through the bottles on the upper shelf in his kitchen cupboard. “How does Naboo star-flower wine sound?” he asked.

“Oh, I haven’t had that in ages.” Parvati’s tone was ecstatic. “I didn’t even think it could be transported off-world without ruining it.”

Sheev smiled, pulling the bottle down from the shelf. “It wasn’t easy,” he said. “Or cheap. Worth every credit for you, though.”

Parvati crossed to the middle of the living room. She still wore her gown from the Planet Dreams charity ball earlier that evening, an alluring, weightless thing made of pink and cream shimmersilk. Her blonde hair was gathered in an elaborate coil on top of her head that lent her sharp gray eyes, straight nose, and strong jawline a regal, classical look. She was forty-eight rotations old: sixteen rotations younger than Sheev himself, though not nearly as young as most of his consorts. That was half the reason he felt free to be open about their current dalliance. That, and the fact that she was Naboo. The public display of support for his homeworld, and the dangling lure of a marriage to another noble bloodline, had done wonders for his approval ratings among his own people already.

“Where did you find the scroll?” she asked as they sat on the sofa with their star-flower wine. “It looks very ancient.”

_The art historian in her speaking,_ Sheev thought. At times, he forgot how intelligent she was; almost expected the typical frivolous Naboo noble, even though she’d only ever attracted his attention by being the opposite. It was almost startling, speaking to a being who could converse on a level near his own. “It is ancient,” he answered. “The exact date of its creation could not be determined, but it is at least a thousand rotations old.”

“The date couldn’t be determined?” She raised one eyebrow. “Using any method? Why not?”

He shrugged. “No one knows. Some have claimed the scroll has… arcane properties, that interfered with the date testing. And with the scientists who tested it. All merely conjecture, of course. But a disproportionately high number of the researchers who studied it directly did go on to die violent deaths, or to succumb to illness or insanity. Some say it was coincidence. Others say a curse. Either way, after three or four studies, the researchers lost the desire to learn more about it, and eventually, it ended up in an auction.”

A black-market auction in the slums of Taris, he did not tell her. He’d worn the black mantle of Darth Sidious, and had killed every being present after collecting what he wanted from the spoils. He’d been younger then, less careful. Inexperienced enough that killing a room full of lowlife dark side pretenders still gave him a thrill.

Parvati gave an incredulous but amused laugh. “And you have it hanging in your house?”

Sheev sipped his drink. “Such myths have no sway over me,” he said with a dismissive shake of his head. “I am a lover of the arcane, in fact. I have collected many ancient artefacts tied to so-called powers of darkness. Their sinister associations do not frighten me. I care only for the history. The _stories_. The objects and people assigned as ‘dark’ often have the best stories to tell. If one confines himself only to the light, he misses so much.”

Parvati was silent a moment, seeming to think. “And what of the scroll?” she asked. “What is its story?”

“Oh, it is a long one. A story for another time, if you wish to hear it at all. I could go on forever about all the little treasures I’ve compiled in this place. My chief of staff likes to say this apartment is just a cache bin for all my art.”

Parvati laughed. “I’d love to hear it,” she said. “Another day. I’ll save it, so I have something to look forward to.”

“To look forward to, is it?” Now it was his turn to raise an eyebrow. “Are you interested in the dark things of this universe too?”

“I could be,” she said with a coy smile. “I get the feeling you’re going to do your best to lead me into your shadowy, twisted world if I give you half a chance.”

A faint spark lit in the back of his mind. He glanced at the scroll, barely visible in the shadowed hallway. _She could suffice,_ he thought, hope already taking root. It had been so long. “Would you follow me if I did?” he asked.

“I believe I would,” she answered, giving him a sideways glance. She drained the last of her drink and nodded her head toward the bedroom, a wicked smile on her lips. “But first, I’d rather follow you somewhere else.”

He opened himself to the Force that night as they coupled, flooding with her passion, drinking her presence. She was strong. There was a chance she would be strong enough.

The next morning, she noticed the two hologram pictures displayed in the living room.

“I recognize him,” she said, lifting one projector for a closer look.

“Oh, yes, that’s Anakin Skywalker,” Sheev said lightly. “General Skywalker, now.” He paused. “It doesn’t seem possible he could be that old.”

Parvati smiled at the hologram in her hand, the one taken just after Anakin’s initiation into the Jedi Order. The other one was from when he passed his trials and became a Jedi Knight, the two taken ten rotations apart. “He was a cute little thing,” she said fondly as she set the projector back on the end table. “He looks like the type who was always up to no good.”

“He was,” Sheev said. He looked at the picture himself, thinking back to the day he first discovered Anakin, to the spike he felt in the Force during the Battle of Naboo. Two unrelated nexuses of power, born worlds apart, decades apart. Their paths never should have had cause to cross. Yet somehow, the Force had brought them together on that fateful day. He liked to think it had given Anakin to him as a gift, for doing what no other being could. “I love Anakin like my own son,” he said. “He’s been a bit of a pet project for me. A protégé, if you will. Not in any official capacity, of course. The Jedi would never give me that. But he is very dear to my heart. The thought of him flying off to all these battles, it’s… well, sometimes it’s almost more than I can bear.” He put some grandfatherly weakness into his voice, let it break just slightly. Then he took a short breath and returned to his usual collected state. “But I won’t wax poetic.” He turned to face her. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. A… a crazy idea I had last night.”

“I’m interested,” she said. 

"I know the coordinates to a planet, from the legend of the scroll. An abandoned world called Omnis-Ray. I stumbled across it while deep in a Holonet search once, and I saved the hyperspace route so that I could visit it one day. But I’ve never found the time, or the courage to actually go. Would you… if I can clear my schedule sometime, would you be interested in coming with me? Off the books, just you and me. We could take my personal cruiser, sleep in the cabin, explore the planet for a few days. What do you think?”

Parvati seemed to consider it, the idea taking shape in her eyes. A flush of excitement washed over her presence close behind it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea,” she said. “I’m going back to Naboo tomorrow, so you’ll need to pick me up there. But I’d love to come. Just tell me when.”

Sheev smiled at her. “Are you even real?” he asked.

In response, she kissed him.

Naboo was in the heart of its spring when he flew in to collect her for the trip. The balmy breeze, blossoming trees, and bird songs were enough to take Sheev back to his time spent in the Youth Legislator Program, almost fifty rotations ago. There had been a time when such memories had fueled his rage. When all he had to do was think of Naboo and his hatred would burn brighter than a supernova. Now, he’d grown beyond that. Now, he thought of his childhood and felt nothing at all. It was freeing, no longer having a reason to look back. No longer needing the past to make him what he was. Parvati emerged from her villa on the lakefront as he touched down. She wore a warm dress, boots, and a shawl, practical for travel.

“To Omnis-Ray?” she asked.

“To Omnis-Ray,” he answered.

Sheev left the piloting to his droids, settling in with Parvati on the couches in the cruiser’s cabin. Once they were safely into hyperspace, and had had a meal and a few drinks, she leaned towards him, as though about to speak to him in confidence.

“So?” she said. “What is the full story? Of the scroll. I’m going to experience its curse firsthand. I think it’s only right that I know.”

“The full story,” he repeated. He leaned his head back, drawing it out of his memory. “Of course. Let me think. I want to make sure I include everything.”

After a moment’s recollection, he began.

“Many generations ago, on a remote planet called Zaanu, there lived a secluded subrace of humans. They called themselves, simply, the People. The People’s way of life was simple, archaic. Devoid of most machinery and scientific understanding. However, it had not always been that way. Zaanu had once been home to a different and far more advanced human civilization, from which the People had descended. A progenitor race, if you will.

“According to the legends, the People’s forerunners had been powerful Force users and masters of the known world, able to achieve everything from advanced terraforming, to manipulation of the human genetic code, to vast machines and engineering feats unrivaled in the known universe. They were veritable gods, if the myths could be believed. But, at the height of their power, a rift divided them into two rival factions, and they fell into civil war. Their weapons became ever more destructive, the chief among them the Force. The most powerful among them altered themselves through genetics and Force magicks until they were nearly unrecognizable as humans, leaving the unaltered far behind. Then, finally, in the heat of the most devastating battle yet, all the most powerful of both sides vanished, leaving not a trace.

“The People grew from those left behind: the unaltered, the small and the weak. Over time, the progenitors’ technology was lost, and their Force powers diminished. The People worshipped their ancestors as gods, revering the detritus they’d left behind as sacred relics, consecrating their ruins as shrines. They used the Force themselves, with what little connection they could muster, holding out hope that one day the gods would return.

“Eventually, the People would set out to other worlds as well. They established several colonies in neighboring systems and mingled with other subsets of humans, as well as alien races. But over time, their explorations were largely abandoned. For as the generations progressed, more and more of the People had begun to fall to a mysterious illness, the source of which no one could pinpoint. Their minds suffered the most, many of them falling to amnesia or insanity. Many of them did not make it to adulthood, and many of those who did were infirm, unable to care for themselves. Some were even dangerous. Their scientists and medical personnel devoted themselves tirelessly to the task of determining what was destroying their race, but their efforts were in vain.

“All the while, the People’s worship of their progenitors continued: the one constant in their lives as more and more of them succumbed to madness. At first, the People begged their gods to save them, to return to them some machine or scientific revelation that would take their affliction from them. Some of their prophets began to have visions that their gods would soon come back, that the illness marked a darkness just before the dawn of their return. In the beginning, they were ignored, or counted among the many insane. But over time, the movement gained traction. Soon, entire cults had sprung up from the central Force religion of the progenitors. Believers devoted themselves with fanatic loyalty, forgetting everything else in their lives in their preparations for the gods’ return. They fasted, gave themselves to the Force, attempted to summon the gods back from its depths through ongoing rituals and blood sacrifices of willing beings. Soon, all of Zaanu was convinced beyond a shadow of doubt that they stood on the edge of a great and wondrous change.

“At long last, their efforts paid off. In a storm of power that shook Zaanu to its core, their shamans rent a hole in the Force. An opening they called the Gateway of the Gods. The ancient life forces of the progenitors poured out, subsuming their willing worshippers on the planet below.

“But in their fervor, the People had neglected to ask two all-important questions. In all their generations of wondering whether the gods would return, they’d never stopped to ask whether they should want them back. And they’d never asked whether they were really gone.

“You see, in the great war that destroyed the gods, both sides had transmuted themselves with the Force. It consumed them, altered them. A dark and twisted evolution. Their final attack against each other utilized a dark power so immense that swallowed them whole, leaving nothing behind in the physical realm. But they were not gone. They remained in the Force, decaying still farther. Over the centuries of their imprisonment, the dark side had mutated their souls until they became an abomination fit to tear the fabric of reality, a consciousness that recoiled from itself. In agony, they sought an escape in the only way they could: by latching onto the descendants of those they’d left behind, who still shared just enough of their genetic code to host them inside their own minds. The mysterious blight of the People had been their gods all along, struggling to break through and reclaim what had once been theirs.

“When at last the Gateway of the Gods opened, what remained of the People’s minds broke once and for all, under the strain of what their progenitors had become. A wave of pain and death subsumed Zaanu as the People butchered each other in the streets, falling into violent fits and trances, biting off their own tongues, gouging out their own eyes. In this way, the People too died out, and joined their gods in hell.

“One prophet made the piece of artwork you saw at my apartment just before the return. Somehow, he saw what was really to come. The end of all things. The scroll was in the room when the Gateway of the Gods opened. Some say it was imbued with their twisted power. No one knows for certain.

“That and their ruins are all that remain of the People, in this plane of existence, at least. But the scroll contained a hidden message. Encoded within the artwork, the prophet had left the steps to the ritual to open the Gateway. It is believed that he left it as a warning.

“Several seekers have gone in search of Zaanu, to follow the steps and open the Gateway of the Gods themselves. None have returned. Or, at least, none have returned as themselves. It has been said that it breaks the human mind to witness what lies beyond the Gateway. That all those who experience it go mad, or die, or degenerate until they are nothing more than fragments of themselves. Yet still, there are those who seek it out. Most of the researchers who died were killed by their fellow researchers, on Zaanu or in the surrounding space. Many believe they were willing sacrifices, attempting to open the Gateway so that their companions might view what lay beyond. All the warnings of madness and pain and death did nothing to dissuade them, if the rumors can be believed. They wanted to see that which no living eye had seen. They wanted to know that which no other living being could know. Such is the curse of the human mind.”

“The planet we’re going to is just one of the worlds the People visited,” Sheev finished, by way of reassurance. “It does not contain the Gateway. But it does hold several of the People’s relics, and some of their original texts. That is enough for me.”

“Just to see it with your own eyes.” Parvati nodded understanding. “To know that they really existed.”

Sheev smiled. “Something like that. Although, I must admit, the ritual does fascinate me. I suppose I’m glad we’re not going to Zaanu, because I’m not sure I could resist trying it if we were.”

“Do you know the steps?”

“I do. Knowing them has no ill effects. Only performing them.”

“I see. The metaphorical locked box.”

Sheev nodded. “Safe, as long as it remains locked. But once you unlock it, there’s no going back.”

“Could you tell me the steps?”

“I could. But, you know….” He put on a bashful tone, a little uncertain. “What I would truly like to do is show you. We could enact the steps. Here, on Omnis-Ray, where there’s no danger of them having any effect. We could do it in the People’s settlement.”

“Like a dummy version,” Parvati said. Interest sparked on her face, that light in the eyes that he liked so well. “For research.”

“Yes, exactly. A reenactment, on the ground they actually walked. It would be the closest we’d ever get to living the history ourselves.”

She gave him an eager smile. “That is a wonderful idea.” She leaned forward and clasped his hand in hers. “Let’s do it, you and me. Stars know we’ll never find anyone else to do something like this with.”

He convinced her, easily, to couple with him in the cabin in the final stretch of the journey. The act invigorated him, whetted his appetite for what was to come. After, he felt Parvati’s presence glowing, alight with excitement, and with something he supposed she would call love. But as they neared their destination, it slowly cooled and retreated, until he began to believe her passion had been fueled in part by fear.

They emerged facing a small pinpoint of a world, hanging before a swollen, red sun in the last stretch of its life. As they descended through the atmosphere, Omnis-Ray’s surface resolved into flat, dead marshland, broken at wide intervals by monolithic stone cliffs. The cruiser touched down at a landing pad at the top of one such cliff. Hugging the edge was a sprawling complex, an ancient ruin with shattered windows, made of the same dull red stone as the ground on which it sat. When they lowered the ramp, the air that met them was cold, devoid of moisture, and the wind touched them like a kiss from dead lips. Sheev led the way to the cliff edge.

“Aren’t we going into the building?” Parvati asked. “That’s the ruin, isn’t it?” She pulled her shawl up over her hair as she followed him, one hand clinging to it where it draped around her shoulders.

“It’s part of it,” Sheev stated. “Not the part we want.” He kept walking along the edge a moment longer, eyes on the ground. After a moment’s searching, he found what he was looking for. The steps were hewn directly into the cliff face, zigzagging down it. Time had worn them into gentle slopes and curves, and in some places the stone had crumbled away altogether. “Follow my lead,” Sheev said, and started down.

Parvati followed in silence. He felt a pall of uncertainty hanging thick over her presence now, in contrast to her enthusiasm in the safety of the cruiser’s cabin. Most beings were like that: fearless when making their plans from the security of an armchair or a bed, craven when it came time to execute them. Sheev felt a faint twinge of disgust that Parvati was no different, after all. At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and turned around to face the cliff. A set of double doors stared back at him, five times his own height, engraved in ancient runes and depictions of gods and monsters. A stone brazier stood at each side, cold and blackened with ash.

“Now is when the ritual begins,” Sheev said.

Parvati looked at her feet, away from the doors. Then she looked back up with newfound resolve. “What are the steps?” she asked.

“I will play the acolyte,” he said. “You will play the sacrifice. I will lead the way through the temple. The path I take will lead us to the Gateway. It will be like a maze. We will zigzag, double back, walk in circles. This is as it must be. One misstep, and the ritual will not succeed. Or would not, if it were real. I will open my mind to the Force and inhibit nothing as we walk. I will speak whatever it puts into my mind; I will act on every impulse it gives me. You will do the same. Since we do not have the Force in reality, simply speak whatever comes into your mind. Act a bit crazy, if you wish. It will make it seem more real. Then, when we reach the Gateway, I will… drain your life force from you. Or I will pretend to. You will see me extend my hands, like this.” He held his hands out toward her. “Then you will know the reenactment is done. Until then, do not take anything I say at face value. I will do my best to act… unhinged.”

She nodded. It was a small, barely perceptible nod. But her eyes had never left the doors since she first looked up at them, and the flint-sharp spark of determination had never left her eyes.

_A strong mind still,_ Sheev thought. She might be little more than ordinary, but it was enough to retain his respect. “Are we ready?” he asked.

She nodded again.

He stepped forward and gripped the handle of the left door. As soon as he pulled it open, he felt the change. It was as though the air pressure had suddenly dropped: he felt lightheaded, drunk, freed. He would speak, he knew. He would tell her things no living being could know. Perhaps she would take his advice and disregard it as play-acting, or perhaps she wouldn’t. It was no matter. He would not try to fight it.

What did surprise him as he stepped into the dusty stone hall was that the first emotion he felt seeping into him was grief. He did not feel grief often. Rarely ever had he experienced it, in fact. Just enough times to know it for what it was. Yet now, he felt a great sense of loss. The loss of his master. He longed to speak to Plagueis once again, to share the camaraderie of another true Sith Lord, to revel together in their plans. “It was our plan,” he said, quietly. “It was never meant to be mine alone. He was going to kill my son. I had no other choice.”

“Your son?” Parvati asked behind him, just above a whisper. “You have a son?”

“Anakin,” he said. “I created him. Twenty-two rotations ago, on a planet just like this one. I have never felt a convergence in the Force as strong as when I pulled his soul out of it. It was… magnificent. I have never experienced anything like it since. When my master found the boy, he was afraid. He did not realize how powerful I had become, until that day. He had designs to kill him, to take my son from me. He forced my hand. I never would have killed him.”

“Your… your master? A mentor?” Parvati asked.

_She doesn’t know,_ said a distant voice in the back of his mind. But he was already in too deep. “I created him here, on this very world,” he said, striding ever faster through the shadowy halls. “The windows, up there. He broke them. When he saw what I’d done, when he knew the truth of his origin, he shattered them, and he screamed.”

Parvati made no response.

“He did not even tell me when he made him,” he said a moment later, pacing. Rage flowed into him now, red and hot. “The creature that was my master. He took my blood, without ever telling me. A swipe of my blood, from a scratch while we trained. That was all! And he created… life. Human life. My son. I never knew. I never even knew.”

At intervals, he glanced back at Parvati. When he saw her, she walked in silence, her shawl wrapped around her, her presence small and cold. Yet sometimes, when he looked, he saw other beings. His father, Plagueis, Maul, Anakin. Sometimes, he saw no one at all. Just the empty maze of halls stretching out behind him, the doors long since lost to distance and innumerable turns. All the while, he ranted of things past, things to come. The thoughts came in a torrent, against his conscious will. He spoke of Maul, of the loss that still haunted him. Of his family, the loss which never entered his thoughts. Of the Siege of Naboo, of the clones, of the war, of Darth Plagueis the Wise.

“He was a weak fool!” he screamed as he staggered into a corridor smaller and darker than the last. “He deserved to die! It was always my plan. I had designs to usurp him from the time he found me on Naboo. I planted myself in his path, so that I could use him like the weak-minded instrument he was!”

“I was not a child when he found me,” he murmured still farther into the darkness, stooped nearly double, one hand tracing the stones in the wall. “The records say I am sixty-four rotations old. I was sixty-four rotations old sixty-four rotations ago. Look in the archives! You will see. You will find me, long before they claim I was born. Centuries before. I have not lived one life. I’ve lived a hundred. I... am... _eternal_.”

As he entered the final chamber, the raging waves crashing over him stilled, as he knew they would. The eye of the storm, a revered and awed calm. At the far end of the chamber, a stone altar jutted from the wall. Around its base was a shallow basin to collect water, or blood. Behind it, carved into the wall, the gods of the People, five times the size of a living human being. A single shaft of pale yellow light shone down on them from above.

“I made them all,” Sheev murmured, walking toward it. “I created all of it. It is all a part of me.” He placed the palm of his hand on the altar and stroked its surface, feeling the warmth of the stone. For a moment, he stood there, still. Then he turned and reached for Parvati’s hand. “And now, for the sacrifice.”

She looked at the altar and shrunk away from him. “You lied to me,” she said quietly, without a hint of doubt. “This is Zaanu. Omnis-Ray doesn’t exist, does it?”

_Still smarter than I give her credit for,_ Sheev thought. _Even to the last._ “Neither of them exist,” he stated. “Not on any official record, at least. But I did not lie to you regarding this planet. Only regarding the name of the planet where the People originated. Omnis-Ray is its real name. The point where all paths converge.” He paused to look at the altar once more, basking in its glow. “The end of all things.”

She took a step back, retreating into the shadow of the doorway. “So the Gateway is here. You are looking for it. You want to see it.”

“No,” he said quietly. “I found it long ago. And I’ve seen it many times.”

He closed the distance between them and raised his hands.

As he drained her, he opened himself to the Force, flooding with her pain, drinking her presence even as it bled out of her. She was strong. Strong enough to serve his purpose. Not strong enough to survive.

As the last of her life force evaporated, the light broke from the constraints of its single weak ray, pouring down into him, blinding him. He staggered, lost in its glare for a brief moment. As it permeated his mind, the moment stretched to an eternity. His sense of purpose left him; conscious thought left him; self-awareness left him. It was as beautiful as he remembered.

And when at last the moment of eternity retreated as well, other things emerged from the white glare. Things even more amazing to him: the addicting elixir that had brought him back to the Gateway of the Gods time and time again. The first vision he saw was of a lush, tropical world. He saw Anakin collapse to his knees as an outpouring of dark spirits burst free from the ground. He felt death sweep across the planet, all its myriad lives rippling out like candles in the wind. He felt the agony of a single soul, tethered to this realm against its will, begging him to let it die.

Next, he saw the Jedi Temple burning. He felt shockwaves of death spread across the galaxy as Jedi knights and masters dropped like flies on half a hundred worlds. He saw a small, fiery orb in space, a room littered with corpses that smoldered with fresh lightsaber burns. He felt a convergence of pain and anger and raw power such as he’d never felt before. Greedily, he reached for more. He guzzled the premonitions desperately, the way a dying man in the desert drank water. He saw a gray space station, a desert world with a pillar of flame piercing space from one side. Another tropic world, a tidal wave of destruction. A green world swirled with clouds, gone in a single cataclysmic burst of fire. He saw the streets of Coruscant burning and heard explosives in the distance. He saw another desert, bone-white, massive black ships falling to the ground. He felt millions of deaths, billions, like concussive blasts deep inside him. He felt the shuddering impacts when chunks of burning debris plunged into oceans, and when the sprawling corpses of starships crashed to the sand.

“Yes... yes,” he moaned. “Show me more.”

Finally, the rush of visions halted. He saw a cold, dead, black place. A chamber buried deep beneath the surface of a world. Inside it, towering monuments, sealed away. The tomb of an emperor condemned to the darkness and the slime. Yet like the gods of the People, the emperor had not died. Only evolved. In that dark cathedral, a thousand beings worshipped. A thousand beings gave themselves to the darkness. A thousand beings adored him, chanting his name. Facing them, enshrined in their admiration, was an abomination, a consciousness that should have recoiled from itself. A decaying worm, dragging itself back from some place beyond the Force that no light could hope to reach. It stared at them with blind, diseased eyes. It spoke to them in gurgling croaks from lips that bubbled black. They begged it to share its wisdom. They drank the darkness, as he did.

And now that he saw the endpoint of the path he had undertaken, he understood. Not only was the corpse emperor himself. The deaths he had felt were him as well. The weapons were; the destruction was. The fall of the current order, the upheaval and the awakening, the cleansing of the galaxy in fire… all of it was him.

“This is _my_ future,” he breathed. “ _I_ am the end of all things. I am…. I am.”

When he returned to his body, he was on his knees, his arms hanging limp at his sides, his face lifted into the light. He was the only being present in the shrine, living or dead. There was no body. 

“Were you even real?” he asked the empty chamber.

He did not remember the flight back to Coruscant. When he landed, he had several messages from Mas Amedda, and one from Anakin, who had just returned from battle and was concerned when he didn’t answer his comm. He smiled when he read that.

_Foolish boy,_ he thought. _There is no cause to worry for me. I cannot die._ In time, he would understand. In time, they all would understand.

The next morning, on his way to the Senate Rotunda, he passed a Naboo woman amid the throng. She was a bit younger than himself, with blond hair, strong features, intelligent gray eyes. She glanced at him briefly as they crossed paths, then continued walking without giving him a second look. He turned his attention from her, surveyed the crowd. They were all his. They were all a part of him. He gazed up at the bulk of the Rotunda in front of him, his face lifted toward the light of the sun.

“This is the end of all things,” he murmured. “This is the beginning of all things new.”


End file.
